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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26551081">She's Gotta Be So Good At Hugging</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spudato/pseuds/Spudato'>Spudato</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Velvet's A Weightlifter AU (shutterbug) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Other, Polyamory, Velvet's A Weightlifter AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:15:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,657</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26551081</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spudato/pseuds/Spudato</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake's pretty content with their lot in life. Their writing career is shaping up, they have a long-term girlfriend who they're just about down to die for, and Vale's a city just full of opportunity. Nothing could possibly take them by surprise... save for a world-champion weightlifter walking into their life and making both Blake and Ruby thirst like never before. After all, who can resist a girl who can pick up you, your girlfriend, and also maybe your entire sofa for kicks?</p>
<p>(Modern AU! Rated M for now, but that might get bumped to an E in later chapters if we're feeling saucy.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blake Belladonna/Ruby Rose, Blake Belladonna/Ruby Rose/Velvet Scarlatina, Blake Belladonna/Velvet Scarlatina, Ruby Rose/Velvet Scarlatina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Velvet's A Weightlifter AU (shutterbug) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chubby Bunny</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HI IT'S BEEN A WHILE... SINCE I'VE POSTED A THING... but hey, here's this! As ever: Velvet's trans (she/they), Blake's agender (they/them) and Ruby's nonbinary (she/they/beans)! There's some implied horny in this chapter, but I'm not sure if this work will get any spicier than that... but we'll see, I guess!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Blake, personally, doesn’t believe in divine bolts of inspiration from on high.</p><p>It’s a <em> them </em> thing, to clarify; they won’t begrudge anyone their so-called ‘lightbulb moments’ any less than they’ll begrudge people for liking coffee over tea (even if they’re, like, provably <em> wrong </em> for doing so), but Blake’s found it’s one whole lot more consistent to just sit down and smash the words out by force rather than waiting for their muse to come wandering into the room to offer them some little nuggets of wisdom. First drafts are always shitty, they reckon, so there’s no point panning for gold when they’ve still got a whole mountain to churn through.</p><p>And yet, there’s a <em> but </em> to all this that was maybe inevitable from the outset — since fate likes seeing where Blake’s drawn their lines only to toe right over them — and it’s on a sunny Tuesday afternoon at their weekly book club meeting, sequestered away in some cozy little cafe on the corner of Vale’s commercial district, that fate walks up to Blake and absolutely curbstomps them.</p><p>It begins innocently enough. Blake’s listening to Sunny give an absolutely <em> scathing </em> review of the last three chapters of <em> The Vacuan Affairs, </em> gesticulating with such violence that Blake’s had to bob their head out of the way a few times to avoid getting a black eye, and when there’s a barest gap in her artillery of critique, Blake takes a chance to glance, disinterestedly, about the cafe. They’re not really a people-watcher, per se, and the cafe is small and local enough that almost every patron is a somewhat familiar face, and it’s as Blake’s taking notice of how few empty chairs there are — since <em> cozy </em> soon becomes <em> cramped </em> once everyone’s popping in for lunch — when they spot a decidedly <em> unfamiliar </em> person coming through the glass door into the cafe, striding in with a smile and a tank top that is entirely, absolutely, without a doubt in their mind, two sizes too tight.</p><p>Blake would like to say that they didn’t instantly ogle her. They’d also like to be able to say, with a straight face, that their first thought wasn’t <em> maidens bless me have you seen the size of those titties. </em> But the thing is, they do <em> both </em> of those things in the same instant their brain downloads the full sight of her to their memory, because <em> holy shit. She’s hot. </em></p><p>She’s a Faunus, first off; it’s kind of hard to miss, considering she’s got two floppy hare ears on her head, which seem to intermittently stand up and then curl over at their own accord, bouncing in time to her steps up to the counter. Secondly, however, and perhaps more importantly, she’s built like — excuse their language — a <em> fucking brick shithouse. </em> No, really, it’s like a mountain range had a baby with a blueberry muffin, because her shoulders and biceps are fucking huge and her tummy is so cute and chubby that Blake’s actually kind of sweating over it. Every inch of her is covered in freckles and a light coating of brown fuzz (which, given she’s only in a tank top, shorts, and flip-flops, Blake can see a <em> lot </em> of sun-browned skin to confirm that tidbit), and when she reaches the cashier, her smile is wide and adorably bucktoothed in a way that makes Blake’s heart flip about in their chest — and it’s not even directed <em> at them, </em> for the love of the brother gods. She’s just so unbearably gorgeous that it’s actually sort of hard to look at her for too long, but there’s a magnetism that keeps drawing their eye no matter how hard Blake tries to glance away, which is bad when they really should be paying attention to whatever Sunny is saying and not gawking in public like some sort of total fool.</p><p>Well, that’s not the only reason. Blake’s very well aware that it’s a bit of a faux pas to stare at someone in the way they’re most definitely doing when you’re already dating someone else, and they’re also very aware that it’s even <em> worse </em> when said person you’re dating is your adoring girlfriend of four years and your best friend of six, who you’d absolutely die for and also die without, and is also the only person who you’d ever consider anything <em> close </em> to a muse in the gayest, grossest way you can possibly mean it. Like, Blake’s already planned exactly which colour scheme and what type of cake they’ll be having at their wedding. It’s <em> that </em> kind of <em> someone. </em></p><p>But Blake’s never seen this woman before in all their years in Vale, which they can say with absolute surety; if they had, she’d already be a character in about three separate manuscripts already. Just seeing her is giving them a million ideas a second for a host of new love interests with delts the size of watermelons, all of whom Blake knows would be considered too perfect to really exist. Yet, there she is, standing at the counter as she looks over the menu (and Salem track Blake down and maul them to death, she’s <em> gotta </em> be taller than their six-foot-one), and Blake tries very hard to pay the vaguest attention to Sunny as she says something like <em> and someone’s GOTTA take these heterosexual romances out back and shoot them, like, c’mon </em> as they try to very subtly fish their Scroll out of the pocket of their jeans.</p><p>The weirdest thing, they note before they rapidly type in their passcode, is that nobody else really seems to have noticed her at all, as if girls who look like they could juggle three cars and an extra child to boot walk into this cafe all the time. Blake sure wishes that were the case.</p><p>It takes a few seconds to find Ruby’s name in their texts, scanning around for the string of rainbow emojis she’d added to her own name when Blake had handed her their Scroll for five literal seconds, but when they zero in on their last conversation, autocorrect gets kicked into sixth gear to accommodate a myriad of quick-fingered spelling errors, a pair of messages fired off in rapid succession. It may be a terrible idea to stare at someone(‘s boobs) when you’re happily taken, but it’s <em> less </em> terrible to ask permission first! Or, well, second, but Ruby would understand, were she here.</p><p><b>Blake:</b> <em>is it cool with you if i tell a really really (REALLY) cute faunus that shes cute</em><em><br/></em> <b>Blake:</b> <em>cause uh shes hot and im dying lol</em></p><p>It takes a few seconds before the little <em> seen </em> notification pops up under their messages, Blake watching as the woman seems to make a final decision before flashing the cashier a bashful smile that’s so charming that they’re actually sort of jealous they’re not the recipient of it, and when she talks, her voice is just loud enough for Blake to make it out over Sunny’s ongoing rant and the sounds of cutlery and murmured conversation: <em> yeah, uh, can I get a strawberry frapp with an inadvisable amount of cream— </em> </p><p>Blake doesn’t hear the rest of her order when their Scroll vibrates in their hand, drawing their attention downwards to see a series of laughing emojis have been sent back, followed up by a handful of messages.</p><p><b>ruby!!!:</b><em> uh yes????? of course!!!!!!! cute ppl have 2 kno theyre cute cause what if!!!! someone hasnt told them that today ;~; OR EVER???</em><em><br/></em> <b>ruby!!!: </b><em>we’re like,,,,,,,,, LEGALLY OBLIGATED,,,,,,,,,,,,,</em><em><br/></em> <b>ruby!!!:</b> <em>…</em><em><br/></em> <b>ruby!!!:</b> <em>but also……….. like………….. how cute are we talking………………..</em></p><p>How cute? Blake peeks upwards, watching the other Faunus pull her own Scroll out of her pocket to swipe in her passcode, looking at the way the thin cotton of her alarmingly orange tank top pulls taut about the curves of her tummy, staring at how she idly fluffs up her ponytail as she laughs under her breath at something on her Scroll, and Blake’s struggling to quantify an answer to that under any known metric to human nor Faunuskind.</p><p><b>Blake: </b><em>uuuuuuh</em><em><br/></em> <b>Blake:</b> <em>i’m gonna be honest</em><em><br/></em> <b>Blake:</b><em> yr a 10/10</em><em><br/></em> <b>Blake:</b><em> she’s like… 11/10</em></p><p>Not a second later, there’s a reply.</p><p><b>ruby!!!: </b><em>WHAT,,,,</em><em><br/></em> <b>ruby!!!: </b><em>holy shit i wanna see so BAD</em><em><br/></em> <b>ruby!!!:</b><em> tell her rn!!!!!! blease ;wwwwww;</em></p><p>“Blake? You down with us here on Remnant?”</p><p>Blinking, Blake flicks their head up from their Scroll, and they’re confronted by three expectant faces looking back. Shit. Sunny’s probably posed them a question that they were too busy trying to be reasonably gay to hear, and the realisation makes them flush hot. They don’t want to look like they’re bored, because they’re really not; Blake actually really appreciates these book club meetings, ‘cause being an author isn’t very easy (even if a fewer of their shorter, pornier publications have seen a fair bit of limelight in the kinkier circles), and having a little team to scope out the hottest best-sellers in order to dissect the secrets of their success makes scouting out the competition is all that more streamlined. Maidens know that without this club, Blake would hardly read anything that wasn’t agonising over their latest drafts.</p><p>So, being caught utterly distracted and looking extremely invested in something else? Guilt sinks like a stone into their stomach. “Oh— sorry. Had to, uh, field a few texts from my girlfriend.”</p><p>At least two brows raise at that, shared glances implying that everyone’s got the same (wrong) idea, and Blake really needs to make some sort of plan to salvage their reputation, because even though they do write absolute filth sometimes (and have many fans of) they know how to keep it in the bedroom! Kinda! Yet, before they can concoct some sort of left-field reason to have been so thoroughly immersed with their Scroll instead of Sunny’s monologue, their ear flicks towards the counter as they hear <em> thank you! have a good day!, </em> and out of the corner of their eye, they can see the stranger making for the door with a frapp and some sort of salad-filled wrap in hand, striding off at pace.</p><p>Shit. Shit, shit, shit. It’s now or never.</p><p>“Uh—” Blake stands up abruptly, and their knees nearly knock into the low coffee table in front of their beanbag of choice, scrambling up onto two feet as their friends watch with shared bemused expressions. “Sorry, I’ve just— I’ve just seen a, uh, old friend from— I’ll be back in five seconds, bear with!”</p><p>None of them say anything — within earshot — so that’s a small blessing, but Blake doesn’t care too much about that anyway when they’re darting for the door, shoving their Scroll into their pocket as they duck outside into the bright, early afternoon light, squinting as they glance up and down the street. The other Faunus has already made fantastic headway as the speed she’s moving, because by the time Blake spots her hare ears over the heads of everyone else in the street, she’s already about thirty feet away and widening the distance every step. So, gathering up every braincell they can possibly lay claim to, Blake does the one thing they hate more than just about anything else; calling attention to themself. In <em> public. </em></p><p>“Excuse me!” they call before they can think better of it, jogging after her in a way they hope isn’t, like, intimidating. Not that it should matter; she could probably turn their spine into a pretzel without breaking a sweat, which is made all the more apparent when she pauses in her step to glance over her shoulder, allowing Blake to catch up and realise oh, yeah, she’s <em> tall. </em></p><p>“Hi?” she says, and Blake’s struck by a realisation that if they were struggling to handle her when she was focused on something else, they were direly underprepared for what it’s like to be under the full weight of her attention. No one person should have the power of all those freckles, and she’s so adorably hot that Blake’s entire knowledge of what words are dies in the face of a stark reality: they are very, very gay, and very, very thirsty.</p><p>The woman looks, understandably, very confused, which makes sense when a tall and sweaty person just stumbled out of the cafe after her with all the grace of a teetering doe, and Blake’s trying to find a good response that’s both eloquent and attractive. They’re a writer! They pay most of the rent writing books! This should be easy for them! And yet— </p><p>“Uh…” they start, swallowing thickly. “I, um… I just wanted to say, uh—”</p><p>Waving their hands about like they can physically start churning the words out, they settle for shoving their hands into their pockets where they can’t embarrass themself by evolving into a full-out flail. “Um, is it cool with you if I tell you that you’re, uh, really…. cute?”</p><p>The following silence is maybe the most awkward silence Blake’s ever had the displeasure of standing inside, averting their eyes as this exceedingly, blazingly hot Faunus — whose tank top, Blake can now see, reads in bright yellow letters, <em>‘i get my protein from chicken nuggets’</em> — stares at them sort of blankly, brown eyes looking them up and down and up again.</p><p>Then, after another few painful seconds, the response comes in the form of a deep-bellied laughter.</p><p>“Oh, <em> geez!” </em> she says, her smile akin to the first glance of sunlight from behind a dense stormcloud and <em> wow </em> that’s a gay thought to have. “I thought you were gonna tell me I’d dropped my wallet or something! That would have been so embarrassing, haha.” She winks at Blake, with a sort of casualness that makes it a million times more attractive than maybe it should be. “I’m glad it’s something sweet instead, huh? You don’t look too bad yourself, stranger.”</p><p>Have people died from blushing too hard? Blake’s pretty sure they’re about to, still scrabbling for something to say. “Uh! Yeah, no, um— I didn’t wanna, like, bother you or anything, I just—” They clear their throat, hands digging ever deeper into their pockets. “Do you, like, come here often, or…”</p><p>The question comes out strangled, mostly because Blake realises it’s a stupid thing to ask before it’s even fully out of their mouth. Even outside of the book club meetings, Blake frequents the cafe almost a worrying amount because it’s not too far from home and they like the ambience, and Blake knows she’s a new face. There’s not a chance they’d be able to miss her.</p><p>“Actually, no,” she says, giving her frapp a little shake before she sips at the straw. “I got to Vale at, like, dawn yesterday? I’ve just moved here.”</p><p>“Oh!” Blake says, though the first part isn’t surprising — that just confirms that fate didn’t conspire to hide her from them, at least. It’s the second part that’s more interesting, even if Blake maybe should’ve guessed it from how heavy her Menagerie accent is. They’ve lost the majority of theirs after years of travelling and making some extremely poor decisions, and it’s a little nostalgic in a funny sort of way. And very endearing. “Well, welcome to Vale. Did you come here for, like, work? Or uni?”</p><p>“Moved for— I’d say <em> work, </em> but that sounds a little too serious for me.” She laughs again, and she tucks her to-go food in the crook of her elbow (and, coincidentally, squishes it up against her boob even as Blake tries their very best not to stare) before offering out a hand. “I’m Velvet. I’m a professional weightlifter.”</p><p>Even if Velvet hadn’t said it outright, Blake’s pretty sure they could’ve pieced that together themself. Her body is one thing, but the calluses on her palm tell a whole story on their own, warm and rough and strong in a way they are most assuredly going to write about in the near future. Which would be gay. So they’re gonna do it anyway. “I— I mean, you look it. Like, uh… you’re very… <em> big.” </em></p><p>Blake’s actually glad Ruby isn’t here right now, because she would be laughing herself sick hearing that come out of their mouth. Velvet, thankfully, doesn’t, though her wide and toothy smile is <em> almost </em> tinder for it as she retracts her hand to press her fist against the jut of her waist. “Aw, thanks. My mam always calls me her chubby bunny, but if you wanna be friends, I guess you can too, huh?” A second wink proves just as leg-wobblingly attractive as the last, and Blake is frantically nodding like an absolute maniac just to pretend like they’re not completely enamoured by her.</p><p>“That’d— that’d be— yes. Cool. Neat. Awesome. I, uh… well, if you, like, ever wanted a tour guide to Vale, I could… show you around?” Blake pauses, and realises they’ve missed an entire step here. “Oh, gods— I’m Blake, by the way. Blake Belladonna.”</p><p>There’s a look to Velvet’s face that says she’s starting to connect some obvious dots together here, but she’s mercifully kind enough to dodge the obvious question of <em> why are you all the way out here, then? </em> Instead, she just takes a long sip of her frapp, waiting for the potential topic to die out before continuing. “I’d appreciate that, yeah. Still haven’t really gotten my feet wet around here, and it’d be nice to get to know some new people.”</p><p>Blake nods again, murmuring <em> yeah </em> with the vacant tone of someone who is just half a step out of their right mind, and then they blink, grimace, and remember that, oh yeah, they’re meant to be a <em> book club </em> right now.</p><p>“Ah, shit, I gotta get back to my friends,” they say, and they fumble for their Scroll, offering it out towards Velvet with the contacts screen open. “Uh, could I, um, get your number? We could totally get lunch sometime, or whatever?”</p><p>Velvet grins, taking the Scroll and swiping over to make a new entry, typing in her name with a one-handed adeptness Blake wishes they had. “Sounds good to me. I’m a bit of a bottomless hole with food, though, so I won’t be offended if you ask me to foot the bill, hah.”</p><p>Blake’s not sure how many calories go into being a professional weightlifter, but judging from Velvet’s sheer scale, it’s a <em> lot. </em> “No, yeah, I— I know lots of good spots that’re pretty cheap. Lots of little Faunus joints, you know. Lots of variety.”</p><p>Lots, lots, lots. Blake really wishes everything they said was as thought-out as the dialogue they write. Still, Velvet’s not bothered at all, passing back their Scroll with her details saved inside. “I’m looking forward to it. I’ll let you get back to your friends, though.” Velvet sort of half turns around, ready to carry on the way she was going, and she waves at Blake with a toothy smile. “Hope you see you soon, Blake.”</p><p>With that, she heads off, Blake left waving at her in the street with some dumbfounded expression plastered across their face. As soon as she’s out of sight, some part of Blake’s brain wonders if that was all some fabulous hallucination, but then they remember <em> again </em> that they’re supposed to be somewhere <em> else </em> right now, and scramble back inside the cafe, scooting past a rapidly-lengthening queue to reach the little corner that the club’s had claimed for months now. All of them give Blake weird looks as they throw themself back into their beanbag, and they try very hard to find an attentive, engaged pose.</p><p>“Sorry about that,” they say, Scroll still grasped in their hand. “No more interruptions. My bad.”</p><p>Sunny rolls her eyes, but her smile doesn’t lend it any bite. “Please. Out of all of us, you’re the one who’s usually telling <em> us </em> to put our Scrolls away. Did she remember you?”</p><p>Blake falters for a second, confused, and then distinctly recalls their own voice going <em> I’ve just seen an old friend. </em> “Uh, yeah! Yeah, it took a minute, but she remembered me. I got her number so we can chat again, which is cool.”</p><p>That seems to placate them, conversation soon returning to the subject matter at hand — namely, how evident it is that the writer doesn’t really quite know how sex works, or how not to write it in the most bizarre of fashions — but Blake can’t help but peek at their Scroll one last time before putting it away, looking at the contact details.</p><p><b>NAME:</b> Velvet Scarlatina<br/><b>BUSINESS:</b> Big Biceps, Boobs, and Butts Incorporated.</p><p>When Blake snorts aloud at that, everyone is very nice and doesn’t even mention it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. How to Make a Fool of Yourself in 20 Words or Less</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>in this episode of 'i can't believe it updated either'... THIS FIC UPDATED... HUH??? i've been on a TERRIBLE creative streak lately and this is honestly the first thing i've finished since chapter one went up, so i'm GLAD I GOT IT SQUARED AWAY... now to. make chapter three. haha.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There’s only one person more excited than Blake is about getting a hot weightlifter’s number (and also </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe?</span>
  </em>
  <span> a potential </span>
  <em>
    <span>date???)</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and that’s their girlfriend, because Ruby is —  and has been — absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>buzzing</span>
  </em>
  <span> about this whole thing since they walked through the front door of their flat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wait—”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ruby demands, not for the first time this afternoon, as she tosses herself onto their blanket-laden couch, wriggling along until she can rest her head on the muscle of Blake's thigh. Their home is oddly quiet for the first time in… well, years, probably, because Ruby has seemingly decided that this matter requires the total and absolute attention of Blake’s entire captive audience of one. Her face scrunches up cutely, arms crossing over her chest, and her legs tangle this way and that until she decides to just fold herself up instead. “Lemme recap; she was taller than </span>
  <em>
    <span>you?!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake nods, because they’re all too eager to redescribe Velvet as many times as possible. “Yeah, taller than me. Twice as wide, too, if it helps.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruby sort of thinks about that for a moment, chewing on her lower lip, and then she starts worming her hands into the big kangaroo pouch of Blake’s hoodie, squirming about until she finds their Scroll. Blake lets her pull it free, watching as she types in their lock code with a familiarity borne of Ruby knowing just about all of Blake’s secrets, and she swipes her way over to their contact list where Velvet’s name has now been lovingly modified with a sequence of bunny and meat emojis, because Ruby can’t seem to bear the thought of it not being obnoxiously clear exactly who Blake gets boners for. She stares at the details for a long moment, and then she opens up their web browser, typing in Velvet’s name to return a whole host of images.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This had been Ruby’s first port of call when Blake had sat down and explained everything with all the clarity of recalling a fever dream, both of them staring down Ruby’s laptop like it was the subject of an interrogation, but their hunt for answers had mostly just landed them a pair of </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> severe crushes instead. See, it turns out that Velvet had undersold herself, just a touch, because she isn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> professional weightlifter. Oh no; in fact, it had been quickly revealed that the one and only Velvet Scarlatina happens to hold the world record for the 110kg-plus category of the mixed gender division of the Remnant Weightlifting Federation in both the snatch </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> the clean-and-jerk (names that had made Ruby gigglesnort until she’d caught an absolute eyeful of the numbers Velvet was allegedly throwing around, which had made her go, somehow, both ghostly pale and alarmingly pink with a scalding blush), two records that she’s held for several consecutive years. If that hadn’t been enough, the image search had just cemented the facts in collections of colourful pixels, photos scattered across the depth and width of the internet that show Velvet in body-tight spandex emblazoned with the Menagerie flag, palms pale with chalk dust as she hauls bending barbells above her head or roaring with victory as she lets hundreds of pounds of metal fall at her feet. There’s even </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> of her with golden medals slung about her neck and resting on her very respectably-sized boobs, or standing in dusty, humid Menagerie gyms as she strikes a pose, winking at the camera in a similar way she did to Blake with her fists propped on the fat of her hips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She is, without a single doubt, unreasonably and unbearably gorgeous, and Blake’s suddenly so into </span>
  <em>
    <span>sports</span>
  </em>
  <span> now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>round,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ruby murmurs, eyes big and wide as she keeps scrolling down the search results. “She looks like she could, like, pluck your head off like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>daisy.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake’s never really been one to subscribe to that whole mentality of </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I want my crush to absolutely fucking kill me’,</span>
  </em>
  <span> because they’ve always thought it’s kinda weird and, more importantly, sort of uncalled for. Now, though? They’re just thinking about all the ways Velvet could stretch them out like pizza dough, and they mumble their agreement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruby pauses on a photo of Velvet, chalk smeared adorably across her freckled nose as she glances somewhere to the right of the camera, and she saves it to Blake’s Scroll without a word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I still can’t believe you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>met</span>
  </em>
  <span> her,” she continues on, glancing up to Blake for just a moment. “Like, just outside! In a cafe! Randomly! I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> coming with you when you go to lunch with her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake hesitates at that, their intended reply forming just a second too late, and Ruby’s bright silver eyes narrow. Uh oh. “Yeah, I mean… it’s just, she might be too busy being a world champion or whatever, you know? Maybe she’ll be too focused with training to go for lunch, or, like…” Blake tapers off, trying and failing to come up with more reasons when they, quite frankly, have no idea what world champions do in their free time, but they don’t have time to pull something out of their ass when Ruby sits up so violently that the top of her head nearly whacks right into Blake’s jaw, scrambling onto all fours to stare Blake down with a scowl. To be perfectly honest, though, it’s a little bit like being accosted by a small, feral puppy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blake!” Ruby yelps. “If you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> ask her out for lunch, so help me I will—” Ruby sits back to squash her hands together like she’s mentally juicing an orange, and even though Blake’s not entirely sure what that’s meant to translate into, exactly, they like to think they have enough braincells to get the gist of the thing. “We are never ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> gonna randomly meet some famous hot </span>
  <em>
    <span>athlete</span>
  </em>
  <span> person ever again! And she gave you her </span>
  <em>
    <span>number?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Blake, if you do not text her, I am going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>lose it!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the face of this very impassioned speech, Blake can only mumble out one thing. “So this isn’t just ‘cause you wanna see her </span>
  <em>
    <span>I get my protein from chicken nuggets</span>
  </em>
  <span> top?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruby makes a face like she’s about to turn Blake into a smoothie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>weightlifter!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she hollers. “That is the </span>
  <em>
    <span>funniest</span>
  </em>
  <span> idea for a shirt I’ve ever heard in my </span>
  <em>
    <span>life!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Text her right now! Right now! Oh my gods!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, well, Blake can’t really deny her that when they would also really like to text Velvet, so they take their Scroll back and consequently trigger a good ten minutes of both of them agonising over what constitutes a cool, smooth way to ask a woman who could lift you, your girlfriend, and also the couch you’re both sitting on, out on a date. Ruby, as ever, wants to be blunt and immediately talk about how cool and sexy it is that Velvet has, like, a billion gold medals, but Blake wants to go in with a certain poise and care to make up for their otherwise panicked first meeting, and after much back and forth on the matter, they try for something simple. Classic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Blake:</b>
  <em>
    <span> hey</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They wait, completely still, watching for the little </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> notification to pop up under Blake’s little blue square. Admittedly, Blake’s just about ready to wait all night if they have to, but it’s only a few minutes later that there’s a response, the sight of the three dots of the ‘typing’ bubble making them both sag backwards in relief.</span>
</p>
<p><b>Velvet:</b><em><span> hey stranger ;)</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Velvet:</b><em><span> long time no talk, huh?</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>(“Tell her her tiddies are cute! And big!” Ruby whispers frantically, and Blake shoves her so far away from their Scroll that she goes rolling right onto the floor, a gentle </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud</span>
  </em>
  <span> accompanied by a quiet ‘oof’.)</span>
</p>
<p><b>Blake:</b><em><span> haha yeah</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Blake:</b><em><span> i hadnt like</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Blake:</b> <em><span>planned to bother u so quickly but</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Blake:</b><em><span> uuuuuuuuuuh i thought that maybe i should like</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Blake:</b><em><span> get the ball rollin and ask if u were free sometime soon or smthng???</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Blake: </b><em><span>idk lmao like</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Blake:</b><em><span> here i am lol</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>(“Blaaaaake,” Ruby whines from the floor, squirming around like an upended turtle. “I can tell you’re being weeeirrrrrd! Stop being weeeeeirrrrrrrd aaaaaaaa—”)</span>
</p>
<p><b>Velvet:</b> <em><span>don’t worry you’re not bothering me at all! :)</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Velvet:</b> <em><span>tbh i was actually kind of nervous it make take a while to hear from you again? haha</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Velvet:</b><em><span> *MIGHT take a while even</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Velvet:</b> <em><span>so i’m glad it didn’t take long ;)</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>(“She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>nervous?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Blake says aloud, surprised by the admission, and Ruby worms her way upright to try and glance at the screen.)</span>
</p>
<p><b>Blake:</b><em><span> nooooo i like</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Blake:</b> <em><span>dw haha i wouldnt have left u hanging :3</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Blake: </b><em><span>cause i rly do wanna show u around and go for lunch or smthng</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Velvet:</b> <em><span>i’d love to!</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Velvet:</b><em><span> and tbh i’m free to go for a wander like… tomorrow or the day after or so? if that’s cool with you of course :)</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Velvet:</b><em><span> i’m gonna be back on the training grind soon which eats up like ALL my time but like since i just got here i’m taking time to ~acclimate~ haha</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>(“Blaaaaaaaake,” Ruby wails again, nudging her head against Blake’s hand insistently, jostling the screen this way and that. “We’re not doing anything tomorrow! Say yeeeeeees oh my goooooooods—”)</span>
</p>
<p><b>Blake:</b> <em><span>yeah!!! no yeah that’s good with me we can totally do tmrw</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Blake:</b><em><span> def wanna show u the good spots b4 u get too busy or anything :)</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Velvet:</b><em><span> hell yeah!</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Velvet:</b><em><span> wanna meet up at that cafe again if it’s not too much trouble?</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Velvet:</b><em><span> don’t really know this city well enough to meet up anywhere else haha</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Blake:</b><em><span> no problem! wanna meet up at like,,,,,, idk,,,,,, 12ish?</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Velvet:</b><em><span> yeah, works for me!</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Velvet:</b><em><span> then i guess i’ll see you there, blake ;)</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>Blake stares at their Scroll for a very long, very quiet moment, thumb moving the chat up and down like they’re not entirely convinced any of that just happened… and then Ruby darts in to snatch it right out of their grip, fingers flying across the keyboard with a series of artificial clacks before a final message is sent with a definitive </span>
  <em>
    <span>bloop.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><b>Blake:</b> <em><span>absolutely!!!!!!!!!!!!! &lt;3 ;3c</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>“Ruby!” Blake cries, but she’s already thrown back their Scroll and leapt off the couch, scampering down the hallway towards her room with maniacal laughter. Right as Blake stands to follow her and give her the tickle session of a lifetime, though, their Scroll vibrates in their hand, and when they look down to the screen to see a pair of responses, their face goes magma hot.</span>
</p>
<p><b>Velvet: </b><em><span>forward, aren’t we? hehe</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <b>Velvet:</b><em><span> ;) &lt;3333</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>“Ruby,” Blake says again, their voice just a little more even, and somewhere in the flat, they can hear her giggle. “I am going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>get you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The very next afternoon, Ruby is skipping along a few paces ahead of Blake as they make their way through Vale’s ever-bustling commercial district, pausing in every single mirror and window to fuss with her fluffy undercut or make sure the pull cords on her hooded denim jacket are perfectly symmetrical. She’s about as… </span>
  <em>
    <span>formally,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so to speak, dressed as she’ll ever be wrangled into for an occasion like this, which mostly translates into her wearing her least tattered jeans and her least battered sneakers and, well, Blake’s accepted it’ll just have to do. They, on the other hand, have dressed a touch more upscale, even if that just means they’re in a dark, embroidered button-up with ironed black jeans. Still, Ruby still seems to find it important that she stops every few metres to tell them how handsome they look, slipping her hand into the back pocket of their trousers every once in a while to squeeze their butt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That said, all of Ruby’s attention finds one singular focus as they take another corner together, the little cafe coming into clear view along with the object of their newfound affections. It’s frankly a little hard to miss her, given that Velvet’s choice of a formal shirt is a startlingly bright orange-yellow plaid paired with </span>
  <em>
    <span>(very)</span>
  </em>
  <span> short jorts that hug muscled thighs so tightly that they look like they’re about to split right up the seam. She’s completed whatever summery, formal-casual look she’s going for with dark canvas flats, her hair still up in a ponytail and colourful bracelets loose about her wrists, and she’s looking down to her Scroll idly, smiling at something as she swipes along. She’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>cute,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Blake starts sweating all over again even as Ruby tugs at the crook of their elbow eagerly, eyes wide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Blake, she’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ruby practically moans, and Blake becomes very worried that Velvet might just overhear this obvious thirst when there’s only a single road between them. “How did you even manage to ask for her number? I would have </span>
  <em>
    <span>died.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I almost did,” Blake admits with a mumble, privately impressed with how well yesterday-Blake operated considering they’ve already forgotten what day, date, and also year it is when they look at Velvet, and then they puff up their chest before tugging at the collar of their shirt, trying to calm the rapid beating of their heart. “Okay. Alright. We can do this. We go up, we be like ‘hi’, I’ll introduce you, and then we show her all of our favourite date spots. Cool?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah! And then we buy her </span>
  <em>
    <span>flowers!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Or maybe chocolates?” Ruby takes a moment to think about it, before she shrugs. “Or, like, protein shake powder? What do weightlifters consider romantic?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake’s got no fucking clue, honestly. “Uh… guess we’ll figure that one out when we get there. You ready?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruby nods, short and frantic, and her wildly-chopped undercut feathers down in front of her eyes before Blake gives it a ruffle, leaning down for a brief kiss. Ruby’s little ‘!!!’ sound grants them a bit of confidence in the face of overwhelming inadequacy (like, they already </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> Velvet’s the perfect woman, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> at her—), and so they offer up their elbow again before they both make their way across the road, Ruby skipping and hopping to keep up with Blake’s long stride. This time, Blake doesn’t have to call out to her like a complete fool to draw her attention, because by the time they’re a few scant paces away she’s already looking up from her Scroll with that toothy, crooked grin… but when her gaze flicks from Blake down to Ruby, it sort of (for lack of a better word) </span>
  <em>
    <span>dims.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s strange; after seeing all the photos of her smiling and cheering, the expression she gets — all kind of offset in a weird way — doesn’t look familiar on her at all, and it makes Blake’s ears flick in confusion. Yet, the moment Ruby disengages from their elbow to skip ahead, taking the lead with neither hesitation nor wariness, something shifts on Velvet’s face and her lopsided smile returns, pushing herself off the wall to face Ruby’s rapid approach properly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi!” Ruby says, and Velvet has to really look </span>
  <em>
    <span>down</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make eye contact, like she’s trying to see someone’s incredibly small puppy at her feet (which, in a certain sense, Blake can’t deny it). A hand is offered with such force that Blake’s pretty sure Velvet leans back just a touch, but Ruby — who gets more oblivious the more excited she is — doesn’t seem to notice at all. “I’m Ruby! Quick question; </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> do you lift all that stuff above your head without, like, dying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Velvet’s head cants to one side, and her left ear flops over under its own weight, bobbing with the movement. She seems distinctly bemused, but she takes Ruby’s little hand in hers anyway, giving it a brief shake. “Uh, to be honest? I just kinda suck in my tummy and hope for the best. ‘S worked so far.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake comes up behind Ruby right as she laughs, and Velvet’s gaze moves a pretty significant distance upwards to meet their eye, her smile widening as bemusement fades into good humour. “Hey stranger,” she greets, and she slips her hands in the pockets of her jorts with a breezy casualness that, in Blake’s mind, certainly shouldn’t accompany the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>jorts </span>
  </em>
  <span>in their head, as a rule. “We puttin’ a whole party together for this outing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a lilt to her voice that’s a little different, too, but Blake just shrugs instead of analysing it any further, reaching for Ruby’s hand — a gesture that doesn’t seem to go unnoticed, based on how Velvet’s eyes drop low for a split second. “I can’t really leave this one home alone, lest she set our whole flat on fire.” Ruby yelps, offended, but it’s enough to make Velvet huff out a laugh, and Blake considers that a fair trade. “Ruby’s my housemate and girlfriend. If it wasn’t already obvious, she got pretty hyped to meet you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruby scoffs and rolls her eyes, and although she’s blushing some bright shade of scarlet, she doesn’t bother trying to deny an absolute truth. Velvet’s eyebrows scrunch together as she takes Ruby in one more time — small enough for a quick scan to cover the lot of her, honestly — and then she quietly </span>
  <em>
    <span>huhs.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Well, I always like meeting a fan. You want me to sign a newborn baby, or…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruby’s burst of laughter pitches almost dog-whistle high, bright with pleasant surprise. “Nah, but if you wanna sign my face, that’d be pretty neat!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Velvet chuckles, but the ease of yesterday — with the winks and the smiles and the confidence — still seem a little absent to Blake, in a way they just can’t quite put their finger on. So, they settle Ruby down with a firm hand on her shoulder, taking the reins with as bright a smile as they can muster. “Anyway, Ruby and I were thinking of taking you to a place up near the boardwalk, if you’d like? They do a bunch of seafood and stuff, but if you’re allergic to anything, there’s a few other spots we could try instead?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds good to me,” Velvet says, shrugging broad shoulders loosely. “Like I said, I’m pretty much a bottomless hole, so if it’s edible, I’m gonna eat it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, same!” Ruby chirps, and once again Velvet has to physically move her head just to catch Ruby in her field of view. “I can eat, like, a three-course-meal and still have room for seconds. Blake always wonders where I put it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s ‘cause she burns calories faster than she can put them in,” Blake adds, and Velvet snorts as they start ushering Ruby forwards, the taller Faunus quick to fall into step as they start making their way past the cafe. “She’ll eat her way through the entire fridge, and then an hour later I’ll catch her going through the cupboards for a snack.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blaaaaaaake,” Ruby whines, bumping her shoulder up against them and making them stagger to one side. “Don’t embarrass me in front of a cool person! I want her to think </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> cool!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake grins, making a face towards Velvet that’s meant to say something like </span>
  <em>
    <span>girlfriends, right?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Yet, she doesn’t really return the gesture, still glancing between Ruby and Blake like she’s pondering over something, lips thinned, eyebrows knit close together. So, Blake slips their arm about Ruby’s shoulders, subtly encouraging her to up her pace. If there’s something on Velvet’s mind, they’d rather talk about it in a quiet area with less foot traffic rather than in the ever-bustling commercial district, where nobody can ever seem to mind their own business. Blake proved that well enough yesterday, they reckon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, being on the edge of commercial means that crossing over into the northern residential zone only takes a few minutes, Ruby filling the space by kindly explaining all the district codes and best pedestrian routes to take. Velvet seems invested enough in remembering it all, asking questions back and forth as they walk down narrow lanes and across bridges over the canal, pottering down towards the road that hugs the coastline and runs right along the inside of the bay. The heavier industry in the port district sits further south — where huge boats carrying thousands of shipping containers come in and out of the port, day or night, rain or shine — and so the northern area they find themselves in is considerably quainter, with the sort of beach found on countless </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Wish You Were Here!’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Valian postcards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s here that today’s date spot of choice is sequestered away, hidden down a twisting, nondescript alleyway where the outdoor tables and chairs of the other small takeaways and coffee houses almost block the way entirely. It’s the type of place Blake can smell before they can see it, tuned to the mildness of fresh calamari and scampi, and so when they find the little storefront with their door opened wide and broad window polished to an almost invisible sheen, a colourful awning pulled out to shade half the alley from the sun above, Blake’s stomach is growling away like the starting of an engine, their concern over Velvet quickly replaced by a singular focus on the chalkboard menu behind the counter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long for everyone to order something, Velvet aided with recommendations from Blake and Ruby alike, and it takes even less time, remarkably, for them to be escorting their food to one of the tables outside, Ruby pulling Velvet’s chair out for her like a gentleperson, her grin wide. Velvet smiles, shooting her a heart-stuttering wink as she says </span>
  <em>
    <span>why, thank you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Blake watches as Ruby’s brain has to do a full reboot from a blue screen just to try and recover. They feel that. Still, they don’t say anything as they slip into the seat opposite, Ruby squeezing in on their left side — though she’s angled more towards Velvet, her big grey eyes staring up at her like an eager pup. Velvet looks at her, one eyebrow quirking up, and she takes another glance at Blake again, face as unreadable as any other time she’s done it. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird…</span>
  </em>
  <span> but, as fate would have it, it doesn’t take long before Blake finds out why.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When there’s a lull in both eating and idle conversation — Ruby mostly powering the latter, answering Velvet’s various questions about her work and Blake’s work and living in Vale (and also Patch, when Ruby proudly announces her hometown of such, laying the accent on extra thick to prove it) — Velvet leans back in her seat, far enough that it creaks dangerously under her weight, and she gives Blake another appraising look. This time, though, it’s intentional and </span>
  <em>
    <span>heavy,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it takes them by surprise (especially given that they’re still working their teeth through a stubborn bit of squid, and are therefore just a little bit preoccupied). Still, they stare back in wide-eyed confusion until she lets out a long breath and crosses her beefy arms over her chest, even Ruby going quiet, watching carefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look,” she starts, all the playfulness dissipating in an instant, and the table bumps up as she rearranges her legs. “Look. I’ve been tryna puzzle this out on my own, but honestly? I think I’d rather be blunt and look stupid than drive myself into a tailspin. So, like, bear with me if I’m about to say something dumb, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake and Ruby nod in tandem, and Velvet sighs again, reaching up to flip one ear upright again and giving up when it flops back down a second later. “When we, like, spoke yesterday and you gave me your number and were all, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hey, let’s do lunch</span>
  </em>
  <span> and stuff… I guess I thought that you meant a, like… </span>
  <em>
    <span>interest meeting,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I guess? Like a whole—” She motions vaguely between them, and then cracks her knuckles in a motion that looks distinctly nervous. Which, again, is an odd descriptor for a woman the size of a small mountain. “Like, y’know! A date! But now, like, Ruby’s here — no offense — and you two are </span>
  <em>
    <span>dating</span>
  </em>
  <span> so… be honest with me. Did I totally misinterpret your signals? Or, like… does Ruby not know how, uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>gay</span>
  </em>
  <span> you were being? ‘Cause it was pretty gay. Like. No offence. Again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is a long moment of silence so painfully awkward that Blake wonders if anyone else can feel the soured vibe right across the block. Ruby’s jaw flaps soundlessly, pressing her hands to her chin, beginning to wave them in explanation, and then she just steeples them in front of her mouth before turning to Blake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blake, </span>
  <em>
    <span>darling,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she says, and given that’s a pet name that often precedes her asking who the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> left the wet laundry in the machine for three days again, Blake braces themself by shrinking back in their seat until they’re just out of grapple distance. “Did you not tell Velvet that I am— that we— that this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>mutual? No? Darling?!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—!” Blake pauses, thinks about it, and then moans into their hands miserably. “I forgot! I got excited! I— listen—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning to Velvet, who’s now looking at them with her eyebrows up near her hairline, they clasp their hands together like a prayer. “The gayness was </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> intentional, I swear. I very much, like, meant for it to be gay, and Ruby knows that!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah!” Ruby jumps in, glaring at Blake with her teeth clenched together as a warning. “Blake only told you that you were cute yesterday ‘cause I gave permission! And you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are!</span>
  </em>
  <span> And it would have </span>
  <em>
    <span>sucked</span>
  </em>
  <span> if they didn’t tell you that—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> attractive, if that isn’t too forward, and I’m, uh, like— this definitely was meant to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing,</span>
  </em>
  <span> to clarify—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s still totally an interest meeting! For sure!” Ruby finishes, breathless. “‘Cause Blake’s interested! And so am I! So, uh, yeah!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another long pause follows, and then it’s Ruby’s turn to drop her face into her palms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blake, you fucking idiot,” is all she says, and y’know what? Blake thinks that’s entirely fair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Velvet’s still not said anything, head still slowly tilting further and further to one side, and her ears follow the curve until both point towards the ground. “Wait, okay. So you meant for this to be gay? And you’re both aware it’s gay? And that I </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was gay? Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruby nods, all serious. “Yes. Blake totally didn’t do anything behind my back, if that’s what you mean. They thought you were hot and I thought you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sounded</span>
  </em>
  <span> hot, and you are, so here we are!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake flushes warm, if only because that’s a little </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> honest for their liking, but Velvet’s now nodding slowly to herself, eyes catching honey-golden in the sunlight that manages to slip into the alleyway from above as she looks between them again… and when she grins, it’s back to being bright and genuine as it was yesterday, lighting up her face like the glimmer of a beacon. “Okay, that makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> more sense in my brain now, haha. If </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you are with it, then alright! I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> less stressed now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ruby pouts, and her eyes go round and glossy as she shunts her chair a little closer to Velvet. “Aw, no! We didn’t mean to stress you out! Blake’s just a big dumbass, and we should’ve made it clearer to you. Trust me, we’ve totally been talking the entire time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Velvet leans forwards again to rest her elbows on the table (and by the maidens, her biceps look about as thick as Blake’s thighs), and when she reaches up to tug at the finer fuzz on her chin thoughtfully, winding the soft curls this way and that, her smile grows wider and ever more sly. “So, lemme get this straight, since we’re laying this all out on the table… we’re angling for a— how do they say it up in Atlas again? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ménage à trois,</span>
  </em>
  <span> or whatever?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake nearly chokes on their own spit in a glowing show of sheer incompetence, eyes watering as Ruby quickly thuds on their back, and both she and Velvet look increasingly concerned for their overall wellbeing, mental health, and probably a whole host of other things, too. “I— no— well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but no— I mean! This is an interest meeting! But poly stuff is kinda, y’know, a lot of work and talking, so like—” Blake clears their throat three times in succession, a sticky feeling still lingering down in their vocal chords, yet their voice </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> cracks on the followup. “Like, if you’d like we could… go on dates? See how that goes? Unless you’ve, like, seen how disastrous we are and have completely written us off which, um, fair—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Velvet’s staring at them like they’ve kinda gone nuts. Which, to be frank, they have. So, they take in a breath and try again. “Look, you’re new to Vale and we don’t wanna make it weird on your first day here! And we don’t wanna rush you into anything, so we figured if we got along and you didn’t think we were a total lost cause, we could figure it out from there!” Ruby’s nodding agreement like a bobblehead, and it’s probably taking all of her strength not to give an awkward thumbs up of reassurance. “Like, we could just be friends! That’s fine! But if you’re cool with us… I’m just saying we could go at any tempo you like, really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Velvet’s still staring, and Blake wishes, more than anything, that they were more eloquent than this. Did any of that even make any sense to any living person besides them? But, after a second, Velvet snorts, propping her cheek up against her knuckles as she grins over at them. “Oh, handsome, you do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> need to slow down for me. I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> than interested, and whilst we can totally try being friends first — or, like, second, whatever — I’d love to get to know you both a little faster than that, if you catch my drift?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They do, and unfortunately, so does Ruby. “Oh, that’s easy,” Ruby starts. “They </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> like getting edg—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The speed at which Blake’s hand slaps over Ruby’s mouth is unparalleled, shushing her so hard that they sound like a flat tyre, and even though Velvet laughs loudly at the sight, there’s a certain glimmer to her eyes that’s too bright to be anything but a promise that she’ll be working the rest of that sentence out of Ruby </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> too soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Blake — who has accepted that fate’s out here to turn them into an absolute clown — decides to make it happen faster, for whatever reason. “Do you wanna come back to our place after this? For drinks? If… if you have time, of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Velvet just reaches over the table, snagging one of their cooling calamari rings before they can stop her (not that they were going to, given she could crush them like a bug), and her cheeky smile as she pops it into her mouth is enough to render them into jelly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For you two?” She winks as she chews. “I’ll make the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Given that Velvet looks like she’s strong enough to stop the hands of time in their tracks anyway? Blake doesn’t doubt it at all.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, consider leaving some kudos and a comment, and follow me on faunusrights.tumblr.com for more weird aus and bonkers content!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, thanks for reading!!! If you like my writing, how about leaving some kudos and a comment? You can also catch me at faunusrights.tumblr.com ',B)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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